He Took My Hand
by hell-whim
Summary: Set after Gandalf's death. While watching Aragorn & Boromir talk, I saw something that was too perfect. If you look, you’ll see it too. MOVIEVERSE
1. He Took My Hand

**Title**: He Took My Hand

**Author**: freak-pudding

**Summary: Based on that beautiful scene in the FotR movie after Gandalf has fallen, and everyone has run out of Moria.  While watching Aragorn and Boromir fight, I saw something that was too perfect.  If you look, you'll see it too.**

**Disclaimer: Man, I wish it was mine.  Alas, tis not!  So don't sue!**

**Author's Note: May seem slashy to sick minds, but it is _not_.**

            He took my hand.

            Stupid Frodo.  Stupid Strider.  Stupid Pippin.  Stupid Gandalf.

            Why did the rest of us need to suffer so?  My mind raced, looking for someone to blame, and I saw the elf first.

            Stupid immortal.

            He would never feel the touch of mortality like we did.  Never.  Legolas was immune.  And he did not grieve as we did.  He looked to me, dazed, and I fixed him with a teary glare.  He looked away quickly, giving me and Pippin our space.  He was lost, confused by our frailty.

            Pippin.  My poor Pippin.

            I knew he was too young.  I should have never let him come.  But he came with us anyway.  And he was here.  And he blamed himself.

            I remember when we were children, and poor little Pippin's favorite pet had died.  What a scene he had caused!  He refused to leave his room for hours.  He wouldn't even let _me in!  It was much later when I found out that the pet had died because Pippin was neglectful.  Poor lad._

            Pippin and I were the first out.  But we had run too quickly from Moria, and the shock hit us a thousandfold worse.  Gandalf was gone.  Gone…

            He was always grumpy.  Always annoyed with Pippin's and my lack of restraint.  We were young, inexperienced, and immature.  But I was old enough now.  I should have known better than to let Pippin by himself to explore.  He was too curious.

            Pippin had gone only a few feet, stumbling on the rocks.  He was trying to lose me.  After only a moment, he'd given up and collapsed on the ground.  He was too young.  Still only a child, though he'd have you believe different.

            I did the only thing I could think of.  I sat next to him, and I hugged him tight.  He pulled away from me and lay sobbing bitterly.  I massaged his shoulder gently, trying to calm him as I would when we were younger, and he was frightened.

            What else could I do?  I had always been his keeper.  Always would be.  We were cousins, but we acted as brothers.  We loved each other like brothers.

            He didn't stop crying, and I wept with him.  I knew he thought that we blamed him, but he felt himself to blame the most.  And I couldn't help him, so I cried too.

            "Legolas, get them up."

            Strider, the strong one.  I knew he must have felt the pain of Gandalf's passing, but he hid it better.  The race of Men was poor at showing affection.  Not like us hobbits.  When we were sad, we cried.  And we were unashamed.  I clung harder to Pippin, but I could feel him slipping through my fingers as water through a sieve.

            "Give them a moment, for pity's sake!"

            Good Boromir, fighting for us.  He knew us the least, but he had a heart.  I blessed him silently and ran my fingers through Pippin's hair.  Legolas had moved two steps to us, and my grief overwhelmed all other emotions.  He was immortal, unaffected, but I couldn't feel anything for him.  Not even hate.

            "By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs!"

            "Let them take me," Pippin whispered, burying his face into his arm.  I wished for the world to stop then, and I begged silently for Pippin to be released from his grief. "Leave me, Merry.  Please, just let them leave me here for the Orcs."

            "No, Pippin," I replied quietly.  Legolas moved within a few feet of us, and I sat up.

            "We make for the woods of Lothlórien."

            How could he be so content to ignore reality?  Could he be so callous as to deny us our sorrow?  I remembered hearing of the cruelties of Men's Kingdoms past, but I did not think it could exist in the heart of Strider, our benevolent leader.

            But perhaps I was wrong.  Maybe Strider just liked to run.

            "Come Boromir, Legolas, Gimli… get them up."

            Sam was brought to his feet, wiping at the tears in his eyes.  Pippin's cries of grief had diminished little.  There stood the elf, unsure as ever.

            "Merry, Pippin…" his voice was surprisingly gentle and sorrowful.  I looked up into his blue eyes, and I understood.  I was wrong. "We… we have to go."

            "I know," I said, and we seemed to understand each other better.  I raised an arm and gave Pip's shoulder a final squeeze.

            He took my hand.


	2. An Explanation of the Story's Origins

            Okay, here's where it all begins to make sense.  I recently bought _The Fellowship of the Ring-Extended Edition_, and I have been watching it non-stop.  One scene has imprinted itself as the absolute favorite in my heart: the remaining members of the Company are running out of Moria, and all the hobbits can do is lay on the ground and sob.  My particular favorite is the image of the prostrate Pippin, sobbing for all he's worth, and Merry, massaging his shoulder, at a complete loss as to how to appease his cousin's grief.  In the upper right-hand corner of the screen (wide-screen version), Legolas's boots appear, walking down the rocks.  The view switches to Legolas staring at something to the side (Merry and Pippin!), and then looking quickly away.  He always looks so much at a loss here, and it breaks my heart.

            Then, it shows Sam crying, and Aragorn tells Legolas to "get them up" (referring, of course, to the hobbits.)  Legolas, still lost and confused, turns slowly, and (in the big "group shot"), you see him start back up the rocks towards Merry and Pippin.  Here, Boromir (great guy) breaks in, defending the hobbits. "Give them a moment, for pity's sake!"  "By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs!"  Aragorn sheathes his sword, and Boromir realizes that they must move on.  Then, with "Come Boromir, Legolas, Gimli…" comes my all time favorite picture.

            Located in my photobucket album.  Link is in my profile.  The pictures should be right there.  (Copyright belongs to New Line Cinema and Peter Jackson; this is being used without permission, but not with any monetary gain.)

            In this beautiful (and final) group shot, we see Aragorn jogging up to Sam, and Boromir slinging his shield over his shoulder.  And, in the center of the frame, it something too innocent and beautiful for words.  Legolas taking Merry's hand.  That is what this story is all about.


End file.
